


We Might Need Helmets

by aj_hofacre, lydiamartin (dwinchester)



Series: Mermaids Never Sang [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 06:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2683187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aj_hofacre/pseuds/aj_hofacre, https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwinchester/pseuds/lydiamartin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Allison spend some time together in Paris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title comes from a line in City of Love, a song in _Summer Belongs to You_ , from _Phineas and Ferb_.

Stiles approached his dad cautiously, trying to think of the best way to proceed. He wanted to go to Paris, specifically to see Allison, but he doubted that his life would ever be so uncomplicated; that he could have something he wanted with no serious repercussions. He wasn’t sure he would deserve it, even if such a thing happened. He was mostly trying not to think about long brown hair and a bright smile. This was a friendly thing. He was going to help her pack, and that was it.

John raised his eyebrows as he looked at Stiles in amusement. “You have your question face on. What do you want?” He teased.

“Allison and I have been talking for a few days, and she said she wants to move back here, but she’s having trouble packing everything. She invited me to come visit, help her pack, and fly back with her.” Stiles explained. “She said she would buy the ticket for me.” 

“Where is Allison now?” John asked, frowning. “And when exactly does she want you to visit? And your ticket’s being bought with her money? You’re paying her back.”

“Oh, right.” Stiles looked a little anxious. He had been so focused on just getting the words out that he had forgotten to include half of the details. “She’s in Paris, she wants me to come visit this weekend, and I already planned on paying her back. Even though I’ll probably have to get a job, selling cheeseburgers to people who aren’t you, because you can’t have one.” 

“I’ll have a damn cheeseburger if I want to,” John mumbled, then shook his head, poking his son in the ribs. “So she only wants you to visit this weekend, but she’s dragging you to Paris?” He looked faintly skeptical, but mostly amused. “Why not invite Lydia?”

Stiles paused, wondering that same thing. “I don’t know.” He admitted. “But she invited me and I told her I’d ask you if it was all right.” 

John nodded. “It’s alright as long as you remember to behave. I don’t want to get a call from Interpol or something saying that you accidentally knocked over that giant arch thing they have.” He grinned at Stiles. “And more importantly, don’t just stay in. Get out, actually see Paris and enjoy it. Deal?”

“I really figured I’d just help her pack and come back here.” Stiles murmured. “I don’t actually have an interest in Paris. Not any Paris. Not even plaster of paris.” 

John snorted. “But you’ll go to Paris for Allison.” He shot back.

“Well, the nogitsune possessing me tried to kill her.” Stiles shrugged, even though his tone was anything but casual. “If Allison wants me to pack her suitcases, I’m packing her suitcases.” 

John eyed Stiles for a long moment. “And that’s all it is, huh?”

“She’s Scott’s ex-girlfriend.” Stiles answered by not answering at all. “I’m just helping her move.” 

John was silent for a moment longer, then sighed and nodded. “Okay. I trust you.”

“So... that means I can go, right?” Stiles asked, surprised that his dad was agreeing to this. All joking aside, it wasn’t too far out of the realm of possibility that Stiles would cause an international incident. 

“Like I said - I don’t want to hear from Interpol about you. Keep your nose clean, stick with Allison, help her out and have fun.” John nodded. “It’s a yes.”

Stiles grinned, flailing a little as he turned and ran back upstairs to get his phone and give Allison the good news. He knew it was obvious to his dad that he didn’t just see Allison as a friend, but he knew what happened when he admitted an interest in someone and he didn’t want to drive her away or risk pissing Scott off, since Scott’s idea of being fine with Isaac dating Allison had been to throw the beta werewolf at a wall on more than one occasion. He was halfway through sending Allison a message when he stopped, threw the phone onto his bed, and ran back downstairs to hug his dad. “Thank you.” 

John laughed, putting his arms around Stiles and hugging his son tightly. “You’re welcome, kiddo. I want you to have fun, alright? Bring me back some pictures and… I don’t know, crepes.” He pronounced it ‘cray-pez.’ “Or whatever the hell those thin pancake things are.”

“I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t survive the flight.” Stiles laughed. “I’ll bring you one of those little Eiffel Tower statue things.” 

John ruffled Stiles’ hair. “Sounds good to me. Say hi to Allison for me.”

“I will.” Stiles agreed, his gaze going toward his hairline. “As soon as you stop doing that.” 

“Kid, I’ll probably be doing this ‘til I’m on my deathbed, alright? Don’t stomp on the things that bring me joy.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison’s hand covered her mouth to hold back a giggle. “I knew what you meant. You just have awkward phrasing, that’s all.”
> 
> “That’s going on my grave marker.” Stiles said automatically. “Here lies Stiles. Cause of death: choking on his own foot.”

Stiles got off the plane, rubbing his face as he tried to wake up a little as he trudged down the corridor, toward the baggage claim. He hadn’t packed much, but he needed his pillow and at least a couple of changes of clothing. And deodorant. He had heard rumors about people in France, but he didn’t want to risk smelling bad around the Argents. Or Jackson, who would never let him forget it. 

Allison grabbed ahold of a maintenance stepladder that had been left out, and climbed up, her head poking above the people in the crowd much taller than her until she could see properly. She spotted Stiles and grinned, windmilling her arms around. “Stiles! Stiles, here!”

Stiles glanced up at Allison, then smiled as he made his way through the crowd. “Are you allowed to be up there?” 

“Probably not.” She jumped down, then hesitated before stepping forward and giving him a small hug. “It’s good to see you.” She smiled.

Stiles grinned back. “It’s good to see you, too. I’ve got a lot of stereotypes I need to get rid of. I expected you to be wearing a beret and offering me cheese.” 

“The beret’s in my car and the cheese is at home. It would have gotten weird and squishy and warm if I’d brought it with me.” Allison grinned back and bumped her shoulder against his.

Stiles laughed, glad that she was playing along with his rambling. Lydia always gave him a blank stare when he tried to joke around with her, this way. Thinking of Lydia reminded him of the conversation he had with his dad, when he was trying to get permission to travel. “Hey, out of curiosity, not that I’m not grateful for this - why me? Why not Lydia?” 

“Be- _cause_ Lydia would be more focused on shopping and getting deals and learning how to barter for what she wants, and when I go shopping, it’s because I have holes in my socks, or because I need a new skirt.” Allison told him. “Plus, I really did need to pack, and you’re probably going to kill me when you see my room, there’s so much stuff.” She sighed.

“Just give the cheese away.” Stiles smiled. “I just don’t see how it can be that bad.” 

**

Stiles stared in disbelief at Allison’s room. “What - where did you even get... are you housing a troupe of mimes in here?” He looked over his shoulder at her. “I mean, they’d at least be quiet, right? This can’t all be yours.” 

Allison grimaced and groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I _told_ you. And yes, yes it is. All mine. No mimes, they’re creepy.” She sighed. “Look, Dad and I may have gone a little overboard when we thought we’d be staying here for a while.”

“Going overboard is buying food staples in case there’s a national disaster.” Stiles argued. “This looks like a tourist trap became sentient and had a baby in here.” He started laughing. “No wonder you invited me. Lydia would have killed you.” He cleared his throat, looking away from Allison and walking into her room to start sorting through things on her desk. 

“I’ve seen your room, Stiles,” Allison laughed. “I knew you wouldn’t judge in the slightest. Apparently, I was wrong, Judgy McJudgerson.” She poked him in the side as she passed him, moving toward her shelves.

Stiles glanced up at Allison and started humming _Alouette_ as he grabbed a box and began packing it. 

Allison looked over her shoulder at him and grinned faintly, shaking her head. If she was honest with herself, she was utterly thrilled that Stiles was there, and that he’d taken up her offer of a visit. She wasn’t sure what it said about her that she’d rather have had Stiles there than Lydia or Scott. And Isaac was more or less living with them, plus Jackson was over every once in a while - either of them could have helped, but she’d grabbed the boy - her ex-boyfriend’s best friend - from halfway around the world and all but begged him to visit.

“You’re not bringing all of this stuff with you when we go back, right? I mean, we can pack up everything and you can bring your suitcase back home with you, and let your dad and Isaac and Jackson figure out the rest.” Stiles suggested. “My dad told me that if I don’t actually see a landmark or two, I’m wasting the trip. I’ll have to deal with him bugging me for the rest of my life if we don’t go somewhere. And this is going to take longer than I thought.” He wasn’t upset about needing to stay longer and he knew that his dad couldn’t exactly demand that he come back home, since it had been his idea for Stiles to do some sightseeing in the first place. “It looks like I’m missing some school this week.” He murmured, sniffling dramatically. “I’ll just have to suffer through and be brave.” He eyed the pillows on Allison's bed. She had at least two with pictures of the Eiffel Tower on them. "How about if we make a box of stuff to give Lydia?" He looked over at Allison. "And one for things you want to sell?"

Allison laughed. “That sounds good to me. It actually saves me from needing to go out and buy more stuff. Lydia and I share so many clothes and stuff anyway that giving this stuff to her is definitely not a hardship.” She approached him and poked her head over his shoulder, her chin lightly resting on it as she peered at the items on her desk. “Can you imagine how much money all of this would get if I sold it back in California, or on eBay at least?”

“You could pay for at least one college class.” Stiles teased, resisting the urge to turn his head toward her. She was close enough that his lips might actually brush hers. 

“That would definitely be awesome.” Allison murmured, and stared down at her desk for a moment longer. She could feel her cheeks reddening a little, and was more or less kicking herself for the position she’d just put herself in - she was so close to Stiles that she could feel the heat of his skin against hers, and it took everything she had in her not to just roll her head against his, bury her face in his neck. The upheaval of her life and the end of her relationship with Scott followed so closely by the failure of her quasi-relationship with Isaac hadn’t quite made her gunshy, but it was a near thing. She didn’t even know if Stiles felt the same way she was feeling, and she was too chicken to ask him, so she didn’t just want to drape herself all over him and take liberties that weren’t hers to take, despite how much she realized she wanted to.

“You might want to consider giving something to Kira.” Stiles blurted, saying the first thing he could think of that wouldn’t get him punched in the face or snowball into him being kicked out of the country. “I mean, you don’t have to, but I think she feels like she’s barely part of the group and she might appreciate it.” 

Allison pulled back abruptly, staring at him for a moment. “Oh, sure. I was planning on bringing something back for everyone, anyway.” She nodded and smiled faintly at him.

“I just don’t want her to think you don’t like her. Because of Scott.” Stiles wished he could glue his lips shut at will. He was starting to regret the trip, wondering why he had agreed to come help Allison. Lydia’s need to shop aside, she would have been infinitely better at packing everything into boxes. Scott might have made things awkward for Allison if she had asked him instead, but he would have addressed the situation and carefully dealt with it. He wouldn’t be tripping over his words, the way Stiles always managed to. 

Allison put her hand lightly on his arm and squeezed gently. “It’s cool. I get it.” She murmured, nodding. “Let’s, um. Let’s keep going? And then we can break for lunch. I can show you this little bistro thing I found around the corner from here.”

“Oh, a bistro.” Stiles teased. “Isn’t that just French for ‘diner?’” 

Allison smacked his arm, a sharp difference from the gentle squeeze from earlier and smirked at him. “Shut up. Maybe. No.”

Stiles laughed. “Thank you again for inviting me, even though I’m starting to think it was just so I could be your punching bag.” 

“That wasn’t a punch, but I _could_ , if you want me to.” Allison told him, smiling fondly. “And you’re welcome. I’m glad you’re here.”

Stiles grinned. “I’m glad my dad let me come here.” 

“I was sort of surprised that he did, honestly.” Allison murmured, brushing her shoulder against his. “I kind of thought that after… everything that happened, he would have sort of just… put his foot down and demanded that you stay there, you know?”

Stiles smiled hesitantly, feeling uncertain. “You mean after I nearly killed you?” He turned and picked up one of her pillows from the bed, sitting down in the available space he had made for himself. 

Allison took a deep breath, sitting down next to him and bringing her legs up until they were crossed under her. “It wasn’t you.” She said firmly. “It was… the demented fox spirit possessing you. And I’m fine, Stiles.” She reached for his hand, taking it and dragging it toward her. Lifting her shirt with the other hand, she showed him the thin, broad scar going across her side, lowering his hand down onto the slightly puckered skin. “I’m here. The nogitsune didn’t succeed in taking you, it didn’t succeed in killing me, it didn’t succeed in anything that it was planning to do. And you’re touching the proof. Okay?”

Stiles nodded. “Okay.” He trailed his fingers over the scar, then pulled his hand back from her stomach. She could probably tell him a thousand times that he wasn’t to blame, but he had been there, no matter what. 

Allison shivered a little at his touch and drew another deep breath, looking away for a moment. She was smiling when she looked back at him. “I know I said we’d pack and then take a break, but I didn’t think things were going to get so heavy. So do you want to go get food now?”

“Yeah, food now. And I’m going to just add it to the amount of stuff I have to pay you back for.” Stiles stood up. “That wasn’t me trying to be an asshole, it just sort of happens naturally. But I do plan on paying you back, and you can’t refuse.” 

“I’ll find a way around it.” Allison grinned cheekily, standing up as well. “And when you least expect it, that money will find its way back to you.”

“You can either agree to let me pay you back, or I’ll find mimes and tell them to come to your room.” Stiles threatened, smiling back. 

Allison let out an exaggerated, terrified-sounding yelp. “No! Anything but that.”

“Well, I guess you’d better take the money when I give it to you, then. And that didn’t sound terrible _at all_.” He murmured. 

Allison’s hand covered her mouth to hold back a giggle. “I knew what you meant. You just have awkward phrasing, that’s all.”

“That’s going on my grave marker.” Stiles said automatically. “Here lies Stiles. Cause of death: choking on his own foot.” 

“Let’s not think about that.” Allison murmured, looking at him. She squeezed his arm. “In fact, let’s never talk about that, okay? We’re in Paris. No death.” Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she turned to head out of the apartment. “Now, remind me to take to show you the catacombs.”

“Isn’t that where they keep the bodies?” Stiles followed Allison, shaking his head. No wonder he liked her, she was insane. 

Allison wiggled her eyebrows, nodding. “Some of the oldest graves in the country.”

“Is Marie Antoinette there, and can we eat cake by her grave, if she is?” Stiles smiled crookedly. 

Allison snorted out a laugh. “She is not, but I know where she actually is.” She smiled at Stiles, her eyes fond and a little shy. “We could go there, too, if you wanted. And Notre Dame. You could see the gargoyles. None of the singing kind, though. The Arch de Triomphe. Maybe the Eiffel Tower?”

“I’ll let you drag me to all of the tourist traps.” Stiles nodded. “Besides, my dad is going to want some proof that I didn’t sit around and watch French Netflix or whatever.” 

Allison grinned. “I’m pretty sure Netflix is just Netflix here.” She told him, looking amused, and locked the door behind them before she led the way down the stairwell, looking over her shoulder to make sure Stiles was behind her.

“I’m not going to disappear.” Stiles smiled at Allison. “Unless this building is actually haunted everywhere except for your apartment. In which case, why are you a character in Dark Water?” He paused. “Wait, that’s backwards.” 

Allison snorted. “Thanks. I’m going to be paranoid now that I’m leaving behind ghosts for the next tenants.” She hit the bottom step, then turned and smiled wryly at Stiles. “Ever ride a moped?”

“You mean a slow-moving death trap that wishes it was a motorcycle?” Stiles shook his head. “No, I haven’t. I guess today’s the day.” 

“Easiest way around the city, honey.” Allison laughed. “Unless you _want_ me to call for a taxi.” She turned around and peered behind the base of the stairs before wheeling the moped out, and gestured to it with one hand, grinning at Stiles. “Tada!”

Stiles was still standing on the bottom stair, blinking in confusion and reminding himself that ‘honey’ was a universal endearment. Everyone from waitresses to school secretaries used it, so Allison’s intent couldn’t have been any different. “Uh, yeah. Sounds good.” He muttered, just to have something to say. 

Allison pulled the moped out of the front doors of her building, trusting that Stiles was behind her, before settling onto the bike and putting her helmet on her head. She checked herself to make sure she had her keys and the small thin wallet she’d taken to using instead of a purse. She grabbed the old helmet her father had originally bought her before handing it to Stiles. “On. I’m not telling the Sheriff why his son’s brain went splat during a bike ride.”

Stiles made a face at her, but he put the helmet on and got on the moped, behind Allison. “Okay, just a day or two of touring and we’ll pack your stuff at night and fly back to California, and then I won’t have my dad actually calling Interpol about me.” And he wouldn’t have to answer two million questions from Scott and Lydia. One million, definitely. He hadn’t exactly said anything about this trip, which was a real first for him. Scott could probably track what hour of the day Stiles had masturbated, since Stiles was never afraid to share any news at all. “Hey, where are you staying when we go, anyway?” 

Allison straightened, leaning back against Stiles for a moment before she started the moped up. She steered, heading for the bistro. “Hold tight. And… I don’t know, actually. Dad never really sold the apartment, so I could still stay there. But I was thinking of asking Lydia if I could stay with her for a while.”

Stiles nodded, even though he knew Allison couldn’t see him. It made sense for her to stay with Lydia, but he felt dread building in his stomach. Lydia would see him reacting to Allison for two seconds and she would know right away that he was developing feelings for the brunette. He was doomed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison couldn’t help peering at Stiles from over her shoulder. In the time that Stiles had been in France with her, she felt closer to him than she had been before; her words to Lydia were ringing true. She didn’t feel like she’d been a very good friend to him, but she hoped she was making up for it now.

Stiles finished taping the last box closed. He lifted it, setting it down on top of the stack in Allison’s closet. “Okay, that’s everything.” He told her, turning to face her. “Nothing to do now but sleep tonight and get on the flight back to Beacon Hills in the morning.” 

Allison brushed her hair back from her face and put her hands on her hips before swinging around to smile at Stiles. “Can’t believe we actually finished.” She sighed. “I didn’t think we’d ever get done.”

“Well, that’s your fault.” Stiles shrugged. “And when it’s time for you to do this again in a few months, you’d better not have this much stuff.” 

“Ugh, no. I learned my lesson, I swear.” Allison threw herself across her bed, sprawling face down and cuddling against her pillow. “No more stuff.”

Stiles tilted his head back and counted to twenty, slowly, reminding himself between numbers that this girl wasn’t an ordinary girl, she was Scott’s ex-girlfriend and that made her unavailable to him. Even if she wanted him, which would be laughable, if he dared say such a thing out loud. 

Allison turned her head to the side, and couldn’t help peering at Stiles from over her shoulder. In the time that Stiles had been in France with her, she felt closer to him than she had been before; her words to Lydia were ringing true. She didn’t feel like she’d been a very good friend to him, but she hoped she was making up for it now, though there was the part of her brain that kept insisting that Stiles was anything but a friend, that she wanted him to be more. She was close to admitting it outright, the more she found herself alone with him like this. Not even Scott had spent so much time in her bedroom with her. “Come sit down for a minute.” She murmured. “Where do you want to go? Did you want to do anything, I mean?”

“Nah, I think I’m all...” Stiles sat down at the edge of Allison’s bed. “I’ve seen enough of this place. I know everyone thinks it’s wonderful and it’s in about a third of the movies my mom loved to watch, but I just want to be home. Maybe I’m a weirdo. For more than one reason, I mean.” 

Allison shook her head. “You aren’t a weirdo.” She turned onto her side and smirked at him. “Well, you’re right, you aren’t any more weird than normal. But I like you that way. It amuses me.” She sighed. “But I do understand. I actually miss Beacon Hills, too. I want to go back, and holding off until tomorrow is driving me insane.”

“Can we get an earlier flight?” Stiles looked contemplative, but he shook his head a moment later. “It’s only a few more hours. We can handle that, right?” The night before, he had barely slept, a little horrified that he would have a dream about Allison (not his first) and say her name in his sleep. 

Allison nodded. “I guess so. I hope so, I mean, it’s only a few hours like you said.” She yawned. “Do you want to just nap?”

Stiles echoed Allison’s yawn, then nodded back at her. “Yeah, that sounds good to me.” He stood up, then crouched to rearrange the pile of blankets and pillows he had for himself on the floor. He was supposed to have packed them with everything else, but he figured leaving a little bit for someone else to take care of wouldn’t be such a bad idea. 

Allison was silent as she watched him, her fingers tapping against her sheets. She staved off another yawn and said softly, “You know, you really don’t have to sleep down there. There’s room up here. Plenty of it.”

“I move around in my sleep a lot and constantly have an erection.” Stiles said quickly. He resisted the urge to put his hand over his face or smack himself for not thinking before he spoke; his words had been true and it was simple biology. He refused to be embarrassed about it. He didn’t have to tell her that she would be a likely cause, that wasn’t necessary. 

Allison’s face went red, and she ducked her head against her chest, giggling nervously. “Oh. Well, then… I mean, you don’t have to, then. Not if you don’t want to.” She peered at him again from under her lashes and smiled again faintly before turning onto her side.

Stiles bit down on his tongue to prevent himself from explaining that he did want to, more than she could probably understand and that if he got up on the bed with her, he might try to convince her that sleep was overrated. He glanced up at the bed, making sure she still had her back to him before he pressed a palm between his legs, his lips pressed together to keep him as quiet as possible. He wasn’t going to be stupid enough to jerk off right then and there, but he had a mantra of ‘ignore it until it goes away’ for a reason. Bringing up the fact that he _could_ get an erection had given him one. 

Allison held her breath, her eyes shifting and darting to different points on the wall. She was steeling herself, muscles tense in case Stiles really took her up on her offer, but as the minutes passed, she found herself relaxing against the mattress and sighing softly. She shifted a little, then murmured, “Would you just get up here? If it’s that big of a deal, just… face the other way.”

Stiles stood up and grabbed his pillow from the floor, setting it on Allison’s bed and laying down with his back to her. “Good night.” He mumbled. 

Pressing back against him briefly, Allison tucked her head down on her arms and pillow and said, “Good night, Stiles.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know this is going to sound a little messed up, but I like you and Scott apart. He was happy with you and that was great for him, yay couples and everything, really. But I feel like he forgot how to be a person on his own.”

Stiles woke up when his cell phone alarm went off. He stretched his arms out, recoiling when he bumped Allison. He eyed her cautiously. “Uh, good morning? I forgot where I was.” He hoped he hadn’t given away the fact that he had developed an interest in her, but Allison had always seemed to handle Scott’s awkwardness with the kind of grace that was usually attributed to saints. It wouldn’t be too much harder for her to deal with his. He regretted his line of thinking when all he had managed to do was remind himself that his crush couldn’t go anywhere, even if he wanted it to. He had done a lot to screw up Scott’s life, even before the night he dragged him out to look for Laura. He wanted to be a better friend. He was tired of the way Scott’s mom and his own dad had been treating him, even though lately he thought he might deserve it. “You need to distract me somehow.” He blurted, glancing at Allison. “I’m... it’s not like I think it’s your job or anything. I just don’t like where my mind is. I can’t stop thinking about... uh, you know? Never mind.” He got up from the bed and put his pillow back into his suitcase. “We need to get going. Ignore me, I’m weird in the morning. And in the afternoon. And at night.” 

Allison yawned and sat up slowly, her hand brushing her tangle of hair back from her face sleepily before even half of Stiles' ramble filtered through. She found herself smiling at him fondly. "I get it, I get it. You're always weird," She giggled, and slid off of the bed. "I feel like I should have noticed how much you make me laugh before now." But he did more than just make her laugh - recently she'd been feeling a distinct flutter around her heart every time she talked to him, or listened to him, or looked at him, or breathed the same air as him. The very moment he'd stepped out of the gates at the airport and she'd seen him, her heart had practically leapt out of her chest. Biting her lower lip, she took a deep breath and then stepped forward boldly, slipping her arms around his middle from behind and resting her cheek against the middle of his back with a sigh. "I'll distract you. Promise." Then she flushed, but didn't let go. "I don't mean that in a dirty way or anything. I just - I'm not going to - look, we'll be fine. We'll probably fall back asleep once the plane takes off, you know?" She snuggled against him. "And worst case scenario, I have music, magazines, and books with me."

Stiles wanted to listen to the voice that sounded a lot like Scott, telling him to take two steps forward and keep at least six feet of space between himself and Allison at all times, but he was too busy ignoring it and smiling at her words and the way she was clinging to him. He wondered if she had always been like that, or if it had somehow been his influence. “I wouldn’t be as forgiving as you. I never really have been.” He admitted, turning his head to try to get even a fraction of a glance at her. He put his hands on her forearms. “I don’t always think about the long-term effects of my actions and I feel like I should probably cycle through all the variants of Hell for things I’ve done. Forgiveness is this concept I’ve never really understood.” 

“It’s easy to forgive.” Allison murmured softly, lifting herself up onto the tips of her toes so that she could rest her chin on his shoulder. “People need forgiveness, even when they think they don’t deserve it.” She poked Stiles playfully in the side with a smile, “And I should know about that. I screwed up so much. I let Gerard get into my head, and I… Stiles, I fucked up. With you, with Scott, with Derek and Jackson and my _dad_. I turned my back on everyone that really knew me and I sided with a guy that I hadn’t even seen since I was a toddler. And he promised me revenge for my mother, and he said it would make everything okay again, but even then, even when I…” Her voice caught as her mind called up the recollection of Erica’s terrified screams and sobs, and Boyd’s stoic but pain-filled face when he’d stepped in front of Erica. “It didn’t make me feel better. It just made everything worse. It made _me_ worse.” She hesitated, then started to pull away from Stiles. “Maybe that’s what he wanted in the first place.”

Stiles tightened his grip on Allison’s arms, then twisted around to face her. “It doesn’t matter what he wanted, that’s over with.” He snorted. “Okay, so maybe I can see forgiveness being a thing for everyone else, and not myself. I’m working on that. Having you with me - in Beacon Hills - we can help each other.” 

Allison focused her gaze on the center of his chest, her hands clenching and unclenching before she put her arms back around Stiles’ waist and leaned against him, hugging him tightly. “I think I can handle that.” She said softly.

Stiles put his chin down on Allison’s head and made a face as he thought for a moment. “Okay, it’s only fair to warn you that things back home are awkward.” 

Allison frowned, even as she sank into Stiles’ arms. “Awkward how?”

“Scott is pissed off at me for being here. He misses you and really hopes that you’ll get back together. I didn’t come here to play messenger between you guys this time, I swear. I just thought you should be ready for him acting like a sad puppy.” Stiles pulled back a little to look at Allison. “I told him what I was doing this weekend and he kind of shut down and won’t even talk to me.” 

Grimacing, Allison frowned at him. “I told Scott I was breaking up with him for a reason. I don’t want to be with him right now. I don’t know if I’m ready to be with him ever again.” She shook her head. “I just can’t.”

Stiles held his hands up defensively. “I wasn’t trying to get you to change your mind.” He looked at his watch, then glanced up at her. “We need to go.” He took a step toward the door, but looked back at Allison. “I know this is going to sound a little messed up, but I like you and Scott apart. He was happy with you and that was great for him, yay couples and everything, really. But I feel like he forgot how to be a person on his own.” 

Allison looked down. “Yeah, I… I probably didn’t exactly help matters. I know I wasn’t really… relatable.”

“Hey.” Stiles shook his head at her and frowned, walking over to stand behind her and put a hand on her lower back, guiding her toward the door. “You’ve moved around a lot. What’s the longest you ever lived somewhere, before Beacon Hills?” 

Allison frowned, looking thoughtful as she followed Stiles. “Possibly Butte? I don’t know. It was quiet there. Wasn’t like there was much going on there, you know?”

“I’m just saying that it’s probably not so easy for you to know how to be around the same people for an extended duration of time.” Stiles nodded. “So I hold Scott completely responsible.” He smiled. 

Allison shot him a crooked smile back, reaching forward and wrapping her hand around his arm. “I think you’re probably right. Scott is entirely to blame.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think you should have to say ‘Stiles is awesome and everyone else is a failure.’” 
> 
> Allison reached for the package, anyway. “Stiles is full of himself and I’m amazing?” She teased, bracing a hand on his arm.
> 
> “When we get to California, you’re getting a hearing test.” Stiles protested. “Okay, how about ‘Stiles is definitely better than most of the people I know.’ Can you handle that one?”
> 
> “‘Stiles is definitely better than most of the people I know.’” Allison parroted dutifully, smiling at him.

Stiles had never been more grateful for in-flight movies, his ability to fall asleep anywhere, and a tendency to ignore his own emotions when something else was more important. Being seated beside Allison for the entire trip back required all three things. He was grateful that he and Allison were even better friends than before, but Scott might as well have been the beacon in Beacon Hills. The closer they got, both in proximity to California and as friends, the brighter red Stiles was sure Scott’s eyes were getting. He wondered if an Alpha had ever caused a person to spontaneously combust. And for that matter, if said werewolf _wanted_ someone to combust, was it really spontaneous? 

Allison studiously stared at her hands as they fidgeted with the blanket she’d covered herself with, her fingers tearing off tiny pieces of fuzz before discarding them. She’d gotten quieter the closer they got to California, but it hadn’t stopped her from leaning on Stiles - literally, since her head was currently tucked against his shoulder. “Whatever he says to you, you know he won’t mean it.” She told him quietly, avoiding his eyes. “And you know what I’ve said about it. He isn’t mine, and I’m not his anymore. He can’t dictate anything about my life - he couldn’t do that to begin with, and I wouldn’t have let him try.”

“I know, it’s just that...” Stiles glanced over at Allison. He wasn’t interested in explaining to her that everything felt different now, since he’d been talking to her for the past month and had a new routine. He was checking the app when he woke up in the morning and periodically throughout the day, hoping she had said something new for him to read and respond to. Once the words were out, he wouldn’t be able to take them back, and airplanes were no place for lengthy, emotional confessions.

Allison seemed to understand that, just by looking up at him. She twisted the blanket between her hands and said softly, “Maybe we can discuss it when we’re on the ground again. For now, we still have some time before we land and… I kind of want to enjoy it.” _With you._ She finished silently, giving him an unreadable look. Stiles’ renewed presence in her life was like a brand new hurricane, bursting in and throwing things around and howling until Allison paid attention to it. Only this hurricane wouldn’t leave, and Allison wanted, more than anything, to keep it there. She took his arm and lifted it, lowering herself underneath it slowly until she was leaning against him fully, his arm resting around her shoulders. 

Stiles relaxed against Allison, a small smile on his face. “Okay, then answer this for me.” He lowered his voice, all too aware that he was loud without even trying, sometimes. “You see the lady sitting in row thirteen, on the aisle? How much alcohol do you think she’s had?” 

Allison peered around him to peek at the woman in question, a grin creeping onto her face as well. “Hmm.” She murmured. “I’d say she’s asked for at least five of those miniature bottles, but she’s getting the hard stuff. She’s going to be on her sixth in a minute.”

“Tenth.” Stiles murmured. “She got up and wandered off, and came back with three more, and then got another from the guy sitting across from her. If we hit turbulence before we land, lean down and cover your head.” 

“Oh god.” Allison murmured, shaking her head. “For both our sakes, I really hope we don’t hit any turbulence.” She grinned at him.

“Me too, but mostly because I speak without thinking and I’d probably yell something like, ‘Incoming!’ and get us rerouted for an alleged bomb threat.” Stiles whispered, trying not to laugh. 

Allison buried her face in his shoulder, her own shaking from laughter. “It would just be our luck if that happened,” she giggled. “Maybe they’d feed us, at least?” She lifted herself up onto her knees, peering over Stiles’ head for a flight attendant. “I’m starving. Shouldn’t they have fed us by now? We have another two hours to Newark, and then another six or something until California. I need food.” 

Stiles grabbed his backpack and unzipped the small pocket, pulling out a package of Reese’s Cups. “You act like you don’t even know me.” He held them out to her, then pulled the package away from her reach. “I think you should have to say ‘Stiles is awesome and everyone else is a failure.’” 

Allison reached for the package, anyway. “Stiles is full of himself and I’m amazing?” She teased, bracing a hand on his arm.

“When we get to California, you’re getting a hearing test.” Stiles protested. “Okay, how about ‘Stiles is definitely better than most of the people I know.’ Can you handle that one?”

“‘Stiles is _definitely_ better than most of the people I know.’” Allison parroted dutifully, smiling at him. “Now feed me?” She asked hopefully.

Stiles laughed and tore open the orange wrapper, handing one of the peanut butter cups to Allison. He peeled the paper off of the second one and bit into it. Even though it was a well-known kind of candy, Stiles was pretty sure he always ended up eating one when something important was going on in his life. He decided, then and there, that if Allison ever brought up any affection for him, he wouldn’t just ignore her, he would admit that he felt the same way. He crumpled the paper in his hand, feeling like he had just potentially cursed himself to have another epically-long crush that went nowhere. 

Allison took the candy and started to peel off the paper cup before she hesitated. She looked at Stiles, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek before biting into the chocolate.

Stiles faltered, dropping the brown paper wrapper on the floor. He shook his head at himself as he stared down at it, then leaned down to pick it up. The windows rattled and the plane shook a little, and he couldn’t help first glancing at Allison to see if she was thinking the same thing he was, before he leaned out into the aisle to look at the woman in row thirteen again. He grimaced. “Oh my god.” 

Allison cringed, her fingers clinging to Stiles’ arm. “Are we talking the flu, _The Exorcist_ , or Mister Creosote?” She asked him, grimacing.

Stiles turned his head so fast, he was amazed that he hadn’t ended up doing a Linda Blair impression of his own. “How... okay, no. This is just unfair. You should have been in Beacon Hills your entire life, even though it would have meant Scott finding someone else to pee on his sandcastle, and that’s a secret you’re taking to the grave. I kind of love you right now.” 

Allison’s expression went from disgust at the lady in row thirteen to bright, flushed, and delighted, a grin widening on her face at Stiles’ words. “I’ll keep your secrets.” She murmured to him, settling down happily against his side.


End file.
